Love Me Do
by SassyJ
Summary: A routine prisoner transport from Connecticut, two marshals armed to the teeth, what could possibly go wrong?
1. An Insanity of Deputies

"I know I'm just longing to hear the justification for this…" Art waved the file, "it's just phrasing the actual question itself, that I'm having trouble with." Raylan and Tim squirmed a little in their seats. Art's eyes narrowed.

"We thought you would be pleased." Raylan's eyes widened into an almost believable facsimile of wounded innocence. "I didn't shoot anybody, we got him back, and…"

"Your car is totaled, you've got a busted knee…" Art waved a hand when Raylan tried to protest that his knee wasn't exactly bust just badly sprained and possible torn ligaments, "Tim has a busted shoulder and a fractured wrist, and then there's this…" Art waved the piece of paper that Tim had pushed across the desk towards him, "this…" He shook his head and took a big gulp of the lukewarm coffee in his mug. He narrowed his eyes again and almost glared at them.

"You're married?" He shook his head… "how in the hell did that happen?"


	2. This is why I don't like Mondays

It was an ordinary average Monday morning. Raylan had just poured himself a large coffee from the machine, taken a sip, and regretted it almost instantly. Rachel's talents were many and varied, but good coffee was not one of them. Tim was hunched over a file on his desk, in the hopes of appearing busy, with half an eye on Art in his office, and the other half on Raylan Givens.

He was just deciding that Raylan's ass looked particularly fine in those indigo jeans when Art appeared in the doorway of his office, waving a file and staring expectantly at Tim and Raylan.

"You two, my office," Art paused, "NOW." When Raylan made a face.

Raylan figured his grumpy look was utterly deserved. He'd worked for it, he'd earned and Art wasn't going to deprive him of it. It was all Art's fault anyway. He hadn't meant to lose the paperwork, and re-filing it, whilst being a bit tiresome, wasn't a matter of national security. To Raylan's mind, Art made a ridiculous fuss. He offered to pay the fine himself.

Art had given him a funny look and declined. With dignity.

Between Art's hurt feelings and general annoyance with him, and Winona's current state of fury with him, Raylan had one good thing going. The way things were going around the office and out in Harlan in particular, he needed that one thing. It was all that stood between him and some sort of breakdown or freak out. He was rapidly reaching the end of his rope.

But that one thing was going to have to be their little secret for the time being. Walls had ears in Kentucky. Sneeze in your bedroom at midnight with the curtains drawn and someone would ask you next morning how your cold was.

Besides, it was all new to Raylan. He wanted to keep it to himself for a bit. Hoard it even. He liked the idea of having a secret. Having someone to de-stress with after work, as needy and girly as it might have sounded if he said it out loud, someone to hold, and be held by.

He had screwed up. He had been screwing up a lot lately. He just needed for things to quiet down. His one remaining straw before he went over the cliff was holding him up, but it wasn't fair to use his love like that.

Art looked up from the file, aware of Raylan's distraction quietly relieved that Tim was watching Art and paying attention.

"Gentlemen, Ellis Ford, a real nasty piece of work. Needs transport from Connecticut to Big Sandy. Now in the normal course of events they would put him on a plane, but in this case that has been deemed an unnecessary risk. The Bridgeport office cannot spare the manpower, so I'm tapping you two to go get him, and bring him back. You have five days." Art handed the file to Tim, and fixed Raylan with a look.

Raylan tried to get himself back on track, because that was a slippery slope he couldn't afford to get started on.

"Five days out of here." Tim grinned at his partner.

"Yeah." Raylan couldn't help but return the grin, not exactly discreet in the office like that, but somehow he didn't care about that right now. A couple of long days driving, but at least a couple of days down time while they were there, and Bridgeport was a nice town. Alone. Away from nosy neighbors, prying colleagues, opportunity to get his head straightened out. Spend time with his partner that wasn't colored by work, or Harlan.

Suddenly, the Monday morning blues were fading away.

xxxxxxxx

It took them a while to gather up the paperwork, grab clothing and wash kits, check out their weapons and ammo and just get on the road. Raylan drove the first shift, while Tim sat and fiddled with his phone.

"Watchya doin'?"

Tim sighed, "since if we drive all the way today, we're gonna finish up in Bridgeport at about two in the morning."

"Yeah." Raylan tried to convey apology through the sigh that accompanied the word.

"Don't sigh like that… wasn't your fault, anyway," Tim's grin was almost ear to ear… "I've found us somewhere to stay and have something to eat. And then we can continue on fresh in the morning."

"Oh really." Raylan picked up on the smile in Tim's voice. Tried to ignore the little zing in his heart, it was clear that Tim had a plan.

"Yeah…" Tim's voice was warmly teasing, in a way that was making Raylan's neck hair stand up, not from something being wrong, but from a sense of something being very right indeed. You could call it anticipation.

xxxxxxxx

Tim's surprise booking turned out to be a quaint, romantic inn slightly off the beaten track, and the couple running it didn't seem even vaguely surprised or shocked by two men sharing a room.

They took turns to shower, and then shared a three-course meal on the deck at the back of the building. Raylan finally felt his body start to unwind as the tension built up over the last few months began to leave him. Tim was his sweet, winning, funny, odd self and Raylan appreciated that.

They lingered over coffee and bourbon, the unspoken need between them building slowly, until Raylan's impatient nature took over. They stumbled their way up to bed, not touching, because they were not quite ready for that in public yet. Behind closed doors they watched each other warily, this courtship dance so new that they were still at the awkward stage of move and counter-move.

The bed was perfect, high quality linen over the best mattress either of them could remember sleeping on. Not that there was much sleeping involved. Then later they fell asleep to the gentle sounds of the night air outside the window.

"I love you…"


	3. Epiphanies and Providence

A bright clear morning, an easy run down to Bridgeport, the largest city in Connecticut. They checked into the hotel, Raylan booked the one room. Somewhere between Lexington and Bridgeport, he had discovered that he really didn't give a damn what people thought. He wanted to wake up next to Tim.

Tim just watched him with that funny little half smile on his lips, and a look in his blue eyes that promised the earth and then some.

It was as he was dumping his overnight bag on the end of the huge double bed that Raylan had his second moment of insight. He wanted to wake up next to Tim every day for the rest of their lives. If Tim would have him. It really was that simple.

When Raylan Givens got an idea in his head, he went about forming a plan of action. Tim Gutterson had become as necessary to him as breathing. But how do you go about convincing someone that they're the one?

He glanced across at Tim, busy organizing his changes of clothing and wash kit, and pondered his problem. Raylan Givens' romantic history was the stuff of embarrassing office gossip, he knew that, and the gossip hardly painted him in the most stable, reliable light. Then there was the matter of Raylan's various runs-in with certain branches of law enforcement, his brushes with the AUSA. All things considered, Raylan was not exactly a winning prospect.

They walked over to the courthouse, and waited for the marshal in charge of Ellis to brief them. Apparently Deputy Lawlor was out when they arrived, they said they would wait. So they sat and waited in the marble foyer, and Raylan turned things over in his mind, and Tim did what he did really, really well. He waited.

Around about the half hour mark, Raylan got to his feet, no particular goal in mind, mostly to stretch his legs and hope that Lawlor would show up soon because he was done with waiting. On the opposite wall there was a rack with some leaflets, Raylan eyed them in a vague sort of way, anything really, anything to concentrate the thoughts in his head, because he didn't have a clue.

It wasn't an epiphany exactly, and three epiphanies before dinner might be stretching a point slightly. It was more of a suggestion, guidelines even. Raylan picked up the leaflet and got a clue immediately.

Then it was a matter of fate. Deputy US Marshal Pete Lawlor was a worried-looking man a few years older than Raylan. He had the fretful look of a confused spaniel that had lost his bone.

"Friad you gonna be stuck here for at least another forty-eight, Deputies." Lawlor offered by way of explanation. "Ellis is still being treated by the doc."

Raylan frowned a little, that hadn't been in the file.

"The bounty hunter who brought him in had to take him down hard." Lawlor said. "So he's not quite ready to go yet."

"We've got time," Raylan figured that the gods of small coincidences must have been smiling on him. First order of business was to find somewhere really nice where he could buy Tim dinner, and convince him that the leaflet currently burning a hole in Raylan's pocket was positively providential, and that if he would only agree, Raylan would do his best to make up for all his shortcomings every single day for the rest of his life.

The small family Mexican restaurant provided the venue, the food was excellent, the drink flowed, even if margueritas were not really Raylan's style, the atmosphere was perfect. They lingered over drinks and the remnants of a sweet confection that neither had ever tried before. Later Tim would decide to claim that moment, the moment when he was sure that Raylan Givens was absolutely out of his mind, but that Tim Gutterson probably loved him anyway.

Put his hat on his head, Raylan Givens knew exactly when, where, what, how and who. Without his hat, Raylan just put his head down and charged in. This time without bullets flying.

"Tim." Tim looked up from his examination of the remaining cake on his plate, and concentrated hard on Raylan. "Will you marry me, Tim?"

Tim stared long and hard at his partner. Friend, lover, trouble-maker… whatever the hell he was.

"Do I get to think about it?" He said, confused to find that he really was thinking about it.

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't an outright refusal either. Raylan took heart in that. "Yes, you do" he said eagerly.

Raylan paid the bill, and they walked out into the night together. The whole way back to the hotel, Tim was thinking in his head about all the reasons Raylan's question was the most insane one in the history of bizarre questions, but that he couldn't really seen a reason not to, and how weird and fucked up this world truly was. But having Raylan in it made life interesting.

xxxxxxxx

The sun spilled in through the window, as they hadn't bothered to close the curtains last night. Raylan was on his back, relaxed in deep sleep, and there were precious few moments like that, moments where Tim could study him.

Tim lay on his stomach, head resting on his arm, the squashed pillow cool against his cheek. He was watching his lover, weighing every pro and every con. Making his little story in his head, knowing that he didn't need this little story to form an attachment, that one already existed and that it was enough for the rest of his life.

Tim's hand traced the few inches between their bodies, slid up over Raylan's hip, traced up his side, touching committing to memory. So intent was he on his little memory map of Raylan's lean body that he didn't see Raylan's hazel eyes fixed on him.

For a moment they just stared, then Tim smiled. "Yes." He said.


	4. Shopping

Raylan read the information in the leaflet out loud. They met the criteria for residency, three days. They needed a plan, of course it was Tim with his military background who slid out of bed to find a notepad and pen. Who slid back in right next to Raylan and crossed his legs, sitting up Indian style, while Raylan rolled over and cuddled up close.

Tim started to scribble down things in a list while Raylan amused himself trailing a finger lightly up the inside of Tim's thigh. Tim was an Army Ranger, a sniper, as tough as they come but even Tim was not proof against Raylan's seduction technique.

Raylan's finger gently stroked a little circle, and he hid a smirk at Tim's shiver and the little gasp. "Clothes, Raylan?"

"Hmmmm."

"We need to go shopping."

Raylan thought about the contents of his overnight bag, and his brown suit carelessly abandoned over the back of the chair, "yeah, I guess we do."

"So" Tim sucked in another breath, "we need to get up and go to the courthouse, then shopping."

Shopping was not something that Raylan ever really thought about. Sure he bought himself clothes when things wore out, or developed bullet holes, _ha ha, so not funny Tim._ But this was different, he wasn't afraid of snakes, spiders, or lunatics with weapons, but smart, angry women and shopping trips scared the living daylights out of him. Besides they needed rings.

Raylan had been through this deal once before, he did remember that bit.

"Rings."

Tim was chewing the pen as he went through it again. "Got that." He nervously flicked the paper with the pen.

Good, he was nervous too.

Raylan wrapped his hand around Tim's wrist. "Y' really and truly want to do this."

Later Raylan realised something really important. Tim didn't get huffy, or angry and he didn't try to pick a fight. He slid the fingers of his free hand into Raylan's fingers, and shifted his grip to clasp Raylan's hand. "I do. But only if you really and truly want to."

It felt so right, Raylan nodded, "I do."

After separate showers, according to Tim because then they might actually leave the room, they headed for the courthouse and the civil ceremonies office. Tim got to see Raylan at his charming, devious best, minutes later they were walking out with a four pm appointment for the next day and Tim was still a little bemused as to how they got away with that one.

"We need witnesses."

Raylan nodded, "thought we'd ask Lawlor for one."

"And the other."

"Get someone random."

They headed back to the Marshals Office, explained to a startled Lawlor that they would be leaving the day after tomorrow instead of the next day. His eyes near bugged out of his head when he heard why, but he agreed to be a witness.

They were just about finishing up their conversation when a voice from behind them said "Hey, Pete, y'all gonna introduce us?"

Raylan and Tim turned around. A heavy-set woman in her thirties, dressed in combats and a tac vest over a turtle neck stood behind them. Raylan caught out of the corner of his eye the way that Lawlor's expression went a little wary, and his body stiffened. Curious, Raylan filed that away for future use as he stepped forward.

"Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens, ma'am, and this is Deputy Tim Gutterson." He held out his hand.

Her handshake was strong, "Jay Evers, and I'm sure that Pete here has told you that I'm the asshole who took down Ellis in the first place."

_Interesting_, both Raylan and Tim shot a glance towards Lawlor who was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'm sure…" Lawlor trailed off.

"So I just thought I would come along and offer my services for your little road trip." Jay Evers cut across.

Raylan was trying to place her accent. Not quite Kentucky, some inflections that were Standard American, but something said South. But wherever she was from there was no mistaking the sudden tension in Lawlor.

Tim was shaking hands with her, saying "I think we've got this covered, thank you ma'am." And Raylan had to agree. Art would never let them draw whatever the hell she was into their transport duty.

"Bounty hunter?" Raylan's deceptively simple question was aimed as much at Lawlor as it was at Evers.

Her amused grin widened. "I'm private security, take jobs where I find them. The family of Mr Ford's previous victim hired me to take him down. Seems they were a little concerned that the Marshals Service lost him so easily." There was something in her eyes that goosed Raylan's neck hair again. "No offence, Marshals."

"None taken, ma'am."

He was doing it again. Tim really did love to watch Raylan work, it was a thing of beauty how he charmed people into giving him what he wanted or needed to close the case.

He had no idea how it came up, but the subject of their hasty wedding landed right in the middle of the conversation as Raylan was asking about Ford and any intel that Jay Evers could provide. She was pure professional, concise and offering no speculation only facts, Tim found himself liking her, "Jay, would you be our second witness?"

From the pleased grin on her face, Tim guessed that Ms Jay Evers didn't get that many social opportunities. "Surely." She shook Tim's hand enthusiastically, and Raylan's.

They had two witnesses.

They took their leave of the slightly bewildered Pete Lawlor and headed out in search of rings. Raylan shoved his mis-givings to the back of his mind, although he wondered if Evers felt it too, there was something a little pointed in the way she was looking at Lawlor, as though she expected to see something different.

"Rings?" Tim asked.

"Plain, not too wide or heavy, other than that, whatever fits."

"You really are a simple creature sometimes," Tim grinned. They bumped shoulders, and Tim's hand wrapped around Raylan's and squeezed. They could do that in Bridgeport and nobody would care.

Raylan's fingers wrapped around Tim's and squeezed back.

They entered the first jewelry shop they saw, and twenty minutes later, walked out with the plain, simple gold rings in their sizes. Neither of them admitted it, but choosing rings had actually been fun. Raylan so keyed up that his hand was shaking as he slid the ring on Tim's finger to try it for size.

Tim had looked up at his partner, seen the intense and hopeful look on Raylan's face and refrained from comment as a wave of something that felt like tenderness broke over him. Raylan was always so certain, even when he was doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons, it was kinda cute seeing him all keyed up and expectant.

"Lunch?" Tim's stomach reminded him that an all caffeine breakfast was not really a good idea.

"Chicken."

"Raylan, this is Connecticut, seafood?"

"Pizza?"

"Mexican?"

Raylan shook his head, glanced across the street. "Italian?" He pointed it out

Tim looked; the place seemed nice, if a little bit cutesy for his taste, "Italian, it is."

* * *

By the time they had shared the better part of a bottle of wine, with Tim's squid-ink linguine and clams, and Raylan's chicken arrabiata with penne, even the prospect of clothes shopping held few terrors.

"We can't go in together." Tim finished his glass in one swallow.

"Why not?"

"Bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony."

Raylan nodded in agreement, and then a puzzled frown crossed his face. "Who's the bride?"

They pondered that in silence for a moment, until a crafty grin chased Raylan's bewilderment away. "Since I asked you, technically, that makes you the bride."

Tim got to his feet, "Raylan, I ain't no bride," he handed his credit card to the approaching waiter, firmly waved away Raylan's attempts to get his wallet out, "I've got this. But, since you're on your feet, and we are about to part ways on a perilous journey…" he smirked and grasped Raylan round the waist, "… we're in Connecticut and I can do this." He hauled Raylan hard against him, into a hot, hard passionate kiss.

There was a polite cough somewhere to the left of them, and they eased reluctantly apart, Tim signed the receipt with a flourish, had his card back in his wallet, dropped a five dollar bill as a tip and departed before Raylan could quite collect his wits.

He stared after his departing boyfriend, with what he was sure was a dopey smile on his face.

Shopping. However much he hated shopping, he was determined to do his ex Ranger partner proud.


	5. Love and Marriage

Raylan stared at the price-tag on the suit, it was a lot, a lot more than he should be spending on a suit for an event. But this time he wanted to do it right, he really wanted to look his best for Tim and if he couldn't splurge once in a while what was the point.

Eight hundred and fifty dollars was quite a splurge. The suit was black, impeccably cut and fit Raylan's lean frame perfectly. White silk shirt, scarlet tie, three piece suit, brand new black Ostrich Tony Lamas. Raylan totaled up the cost in his head and winced, then handed over his credit card before he could talk himself out of it. It wasn't every day he was going to be marrying his boyfriend in Connecticut.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, could use a haircut too. He'd been promising himself a cut for months but had never got around to it. The barber's shop down the street would do just nicely, and it turned out they offered shaves and manicures as well. He figured he was about due some personal grooming, never having experienced some of those things before, he made himself an appointment for lunch time before his special appointment.

Totally being the girl.

Figuring he had it all under control, and that he would be back long before Tim, Raylan elected to return to the hotel, only to find Tim sitting on the bed wrapped in a towel, hair still wet from the shower and studying some directory of restaurants. There was a garment bag hanging in the closet with a paper bag on the floor of the closet.

Raylan didn't say a word. Just hung his own garment bag next to Tim's. "Watchya doin'?"

Tim glanced up at him and returned to his study of the directory, "well since you got dinner the night before last, I figured it was my turn."

A puzzled frown crossed Raylan's face. "Tim, you got lunch, remember?"

Tim's grin was that endearing, cheeky smirk that could get him in so much trouble, Raylan wanted to pounce right then and there, "Lunch doesn't count. I want to take you out somewhere where they have lobster, and fine crystal and…"

"Whatever in the world made you suspect that I was a lobster and fine crystal kinda guy?" There was this funny little tightening somewhere around the region of Raylan Givens' heart, and he was pretty sure that if he was the emotional type, he would be crying a river right about then.

Tim loved Raylan. He was absolutely certain of it, and this was something that hit him in the chest area with the force of a well-aimed half brick. Raylan loved Tim, in that no holds barred, forever kind of way that scared the shit out of him and delighted him and tomorrow was just perfect.

Raylan virtually dived at Tim. They tangled messily on the bed, as Tim dumped the towel, and attempted to get the covers out of the way while helping Raylan tear his clothes off, lips met, tongues dueled and hands went everywhere as Tim gave up trying to push the covers aside, and grabbed double handfuls of Raylan's ass, dragged him hard up against him and demanded.

The sun had set, they had taken a long, slow, leisurely and sexy shower together, ordered room service, and they were just enjoying being together.

Raylan eased down the bed a bit. "Y'know I meant what I said the other night."

Tim smiled. "I know."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." A pause, Tim rolled his eyes a little, "I'm glad we got that cleared up, what with getting married tomorrow, n'all."

"Good thing Rachel is discreet."

"Going through your paperwork to find your birth certificate, well that surely qualifies her for some sort of medal."

"Good thing Fedex overnights."

"Are you sure…"

"I'm sure, alright. There are perfectly legitimate reasons we might need our birth certificates."

"Are…. Mmmmmmph" Raylan moved in for the kill, silencing Tim with a heat-seeking missile of a kiss that caused Tim to moan and arch up against his lover.

Raylan pulled back a little, "Stop talking…" he whispered, and zeroed in on a tender place on Tim's neck.

"No… hickeys…" Tim's voice wavered on the second word, "well nowhere that shows…" as Raylan transferred his attentions from Tim's neck to his collarbone.

Tim pulled him closer.

* * *

Raylan Givens was not a patient man. By the time his appointments at the barber's shop came round he was more than ready for the distraction. Somehow they had managed to have breakfast, Tim had found some meaningless paperwork to fill a couple of hours, while Raylan had fidgeted about until Tim had driven him off to _find something to do… anything… _because he was making Tim crazy.

The barber's shop proved to have a number of different procedures that Raylan could add to spin things out a little. After the massage, the manicure and the shave Raylan was even beginning to feel something close to relaxed. He paid the enormous bill without even baulking, and headed off to get ready.

He didn't know why he expected to find Tim there, getting ready himself, and felt a curious kick of something which he wasn't going to try and figure out when it was obvious that Tim had already been back to their room, changed and departed.

Raylan dressed slowly, it was a five minute walk to the courthouse and the registrar's office, he had time.

But it really didn't take all that much time to put on a suit, even if it was a three-piece one, and a tie only took a few seconds to knot. Dammit. He was feeling tense again and he still had thirty minutes.

He couldn't just sit there. He would have to walk over to the courthouse, slowly, although every muscle was screaming for him to break into a run.

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He watched the clock, the hands seem to stop moving, there was a constricting feeling in his chest and throat, _he's not coming, not coming…_

Lawlor arrived, looking even more pasty, sweaty and harassed than he had the day before. Followed by Jay, and a rumpled looking man of about Raylan's own age, who Jay introduced as "Brendan" who shook hands with Raylan, adding "Jay's booking agent."

Distracted from his depressing thoughts, Raylan took a second to wonder what kind of bounty hunter had a booking agent, but then the door opened and Tim walked in, nonchalant little bastard, on the stroke of four o'clock and just as Raylan was about to really start to panic and wonder if he'd made a mistake.

The registrar asked them if they consented to be married, and then things began to pass in a blur, and the only clear impression of the event Raylan had was Tim.

Tim's suit was a dark blue, his shirt and tie a shade darker than the suit, dark blonde hair neatly trimmed, and to Raylan's eyes he had never looked better. But it was the look in Tim's eyes, scared, hopeful, loving, showing the emotions that they both had such a hard time voicing out loud.

This was going to be crazy and hard, and maybe even dangerous from time to time, but worth it. They fit, through all the crazy shit and the shootings and their messed up pasts, they belonged to each other.

Tim's left hand warm in his, Raylan's fingers were distinctly unsteady as he slipped his ring on Tim's ring finger, then Tim was sliding his ring onto Raylan's ring finger and they came together in a passionate kiss that left no one in any doubt of their love and need for each other.


End file.
